


Hey! You Suck!

by Hufflepuff_Hails



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hockey, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Hockey Taunts and Chants, M/M, Russian Castiel (Supernatural), Soft Hockey Boys, Timestamp “For All You Young Hockey Players Out There Pay Attention”
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-27
Updated: 2021-02-27
Packaged: 2021-03-18 19:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29739051
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hufflepuff_Hails/pseuds/Hufflepuff_Hails
Summary: Playing in Nashville is always an experience. Playing in Nashville during playoffs is even worse. Playing in Nashville during the Western Conference Championship so they can get to the Stanley Cup Finals is Hell.Dean, Castiel, and the rest of the Cavs hockey team take on the Warblers and deal with the deafening taunts that Nashville hockey specializes in.A special timestamp gift for ThursdaysFallenAngel... and because I really wanted to piss Dean off with the amazing chants that Nashville hockey fans love to yell.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Kudos: 25





	Hey! You Suck!

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thursdaysfallenangel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thursdaysfallenangel/gifts).
  * Inspired by [For All You Young Hockey Players Out There, Pay Attention](https://archiveofourown.org/works/5242769) by [thursdaysfallenangel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/thursdaysfallenangel/pseuds/thursdaysfallenangel). 



> Reference fic: https://www.archiveofourown.org/works/5242769/chapters/12094568
> 
> I wrote this as a present back in 2019 for ThursdaysFallenAngel and kept forgetting to post it until she recently posted a timestamp herself. Whoops! Please note this was written back when the Nashville Predators were actually doing well, and had recently won the Western Conference Championship (we won’t talk about how things are going at the time of this posting). 
> 
> All of the chants written here are things that the Nashville crowd yell at games. Most times you can even hear us over the announcers on TV! Basically, I just plucked the boys up and threw them into a game at Bridgestone. 
> 
> And if you haven’t read the fic this is based off of, THEN WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR GO READ IT NOW!!!!

Playing in Nashville is always an experience. Playing in Nashville during playoffs is even worse. Playing in Nashville during the Western Conference Championship so they can get to the Stanley Cup Finals is Hell. 

The Warblers fans are obnoxious, rude, and extremely fucking LOUD. Dean has been to plenty of arenas, and every time he is able to drown out the cheers of the other team’s fans and focus on the game. But you just can’t tune it all out when the decibels are almost Guinness World Record breaking loud. Seriously, there is a person at the game tonight to actually calculate the noise level to see if it breaks the record. If it wouldn’t impact how he interacted with his teammates, Dean would be wearing earplugs. The one thing Dean does like about games here is all of the famous musicians that come out to sing the national anthem. Most of them are country music stars (it is the Country Music capital after all) so Dean isn’t always sure who they are, but it’s a definite treat to listen to Carrie Underwood belt her heart out.  
‘Damn shame she’s already married to one of the Nashville players,’ Dean thinks, but then he remembers the sexy as sin Russian right beside him and realizes he’s got someone a helluva lot better anyways.  
After the anthem is done, the announcer begins to call the starting lineups. And thus begins the heckling from the crowd that somehow manages to get under his skin every time they are here even though Dean’s heard it all before. 

“And now you’re starting line up for the Chicago Calvary! At Left Wing, number 12: Benjamin Lafitte.” 

The stadium erupts with a unison cry of, “SUCKS!”

“At Center, number 24: Captain Dean Winchester.” 

“SUCKS!”

Dean grinds his teeth together and huffs a breath out his nose. Damn fans have no respect. 

“At Right Wing, number 18: Castiel Krushnic.”

“SUCKS!” 

Cas leans over slightly towards Dean as the announcer goes on to call out Sam and Chuck as their defensemen- “Number 2, Sam Winchester” “SUCKS!”- and whispers, “May not be the correct context, but they are not wrong about the two of us. We do suck regularly.” 

It takes Dean a second longer than he’d like to admit to get it, but once he catches the humor in Cas’s eyes, he can’t help but snort a laugh while the stadium continues yelling that Chuck sucks. 

“And in goal, Gabriel Milton” 

“SUCKS!”

Not even Bobby gets off easy as they hear, “The head coach for the Calvary is Robert Singer.” 

“HE SUCKS TOO!”

The entire team glances at their coach when this happens. Bobby just rolls his eyes and yells at them to “Get out there and prove ‘em wrong.”

This is their third game of the round, and thankfully they won both games at home, but now that Nashville has home ice advantage, they seem to be taking advantage of it. By the end of the first period, the Cavs are down 2-0 and Gabriel is pissed. He is stomping around the locker room in his pads mumbling about “fucking 3 year olds telling me that I suck. Not like I can cuss out a toddler!” 

Dean tries to be a good captain, and remind him that the fans are just trying to screw with his head, but Dean can’t blame him for getting worked up. He can’t understand everything that is shouted while he is in the middle of playing, but he does know that the vast majority of the taunts have been aimed at their goalie.  
When they go out for the 2nd period, everyone is stunned stupid for a moment after watching a strange brown and yellow projectile flop onto ice. Dean struggles to wrap his brain around what it is he is seeing in front of him. It truly doesn’t kick in that the thing on the ice is REALLY on the ice until he hears Cas ask, “Why is that whisker fish wearing a hat?” 

A catfish. Someone threw a fucking catfish with a yellow cowboy hat onto the rink. What kind of redneck fans were they dealing with here?! With a groan, Dean simply shakes his head and goes to take the face-off. 

“Thats 3! Thank you Milton, may we have another? HE SHOOTS, HE SCORES, YOU SUCK! Millllllltonnnn Millllllltonnnn Millllllltonnnn YOU SUCK! ITS ALL YOUR FAULT! ITS ALL YOUR FAULT! ITS ALL YOUR FAULT!!” 

This time when Nashville scored, Dean listened to hear precisely what was being yelled at them, and he wishes he hadn’t. No wonder Gabriel was so pissed. Thankfully they had tied it up right before the other team had scored so they were still in the game. By the end of the period, the score remained the same, and Dean knew he had to go and get his team off their asses in order to knock these asshole fans down a few pegs.  
Dean’s attempted pep talk didn’t do much of anything but earn a few eye rolls and a well-meant “that was good, Dean” lie from Cas, but hey, he tried. Something must have worked because they tied the game up easily at the beginning of the period while on a power play. As much as the audience were dicks, the Warblers weren’t overly antagonistic. Dean thanked the heavens for that. He didn’t think the team could handle a rude crowd AND a team like the Scorpions.  
What really made Dean chuckle to himself was the fact that everyone else on the ice was at least frustrated, but not Cas. No Cas wasn’t even his normal cool, calm, and collected self. Cas thought all of the fucking heckling was hysterical. Dean had caught Cas while on the bench, giggling at one of the more colorful shouts and had looked at him completely dumbfounded. Cas had simply replied, “What? They are funny. The fans in Russia never were this animated. These people are creative.” 

And Dean did have to give it to them when the next thing he heard was “WE WANT FROSTY’S!!” *clap, clap, clapclapclap* 

He skated by the Warbler’s captain on their way to the next face off and curiosity overtook him. 

“Hey man, gotta ask. Why are they all yelling for Frosty’s?” 

The captain laughed, “Whenever we score 4 goals, the surrounding Wendy’s gives out free Frosty’s.” 

Dean chuckled under his breath. Maybe Cas is right. They are a little creative.

They were nearing the end of the game, and Dean was sure they were about to head into overtime. He barely paid attention to the PA announcer saying that there was a minute left in the game and was therefore startled when he heard everyone in the arena shout “THANKS PAUL!”  
He shook his head and took the puck down the ice in preparation for one final push before the buzzer. To his left, Dean saw Benny dodge the defenseman and set up for the pass, clear shot on the goal. Dean passed the puck, but unfortunately it got picked off out of nowhere. He tried to skate the player down even though he knew it was too late. Next he knew, he was hearing the crowd yell louder than he’d heard yet, and the buzzer signaling the end of the game. 

They’d lost. Lost in the last fucking second. And Dean was fuming. He threw his gear around the locker room, pushed Cas’s hand away, glared at everyone who dared look his direction, all while muttering about “those fucking asshole fans, and their chants, and stupid on-key singing, and their dumb as shit catfish, and their Frosty’s. Dicks. All of em. Dicks.”  
He changed quickly and stormed out of the locker room in order to avoid having to talk to any of the rest of his team until he’d cooled down some. Cas, however, knew him well, and came out of the locker room right behind him, grabbed him by the bicep and spun him into the wall. He was pinned. Back pressed hard against the wall. One hand at his shoulder, the other holding his hip. Dean was breathing hard, arousal and anger fighting for dominance. Cas didn’t say a word as he gently pressed his body into Dean’s and raised a single eyebrow. At that look, arousal completely took over, and Dean relaxed into Cas’s hold. He tugged Cas in further by the neck, surging into him, all of the red hot anger from earlier channeled into the passionate kiss. Cas let Dean control their kiss for a moment before taking over and little by little slowing them down. After a few minutes, Cas pulled away with one last light peck, resting their foreheads together. Dean took a big deep breath and opened his eyes to see bright blue staring back at him. 

“Better?” Cas asks huskily.

“Yeah.” 

And Dean straightens from where he was against the wall. He takes one more breath and grabs Cas’s hand to lead them from the arena. He knows they should wait for the rest of the team, but he just really needs some air for a minute. 

They are outside in a hidden corner of the building by themselves for a few peaceful seconds when two young men in Warblers jerseys catch sight of them. Dean braces for more bile to be spewed from the hateful fans as he watches them approach. Cas squeezes his hand hard and shoots him a warning glare to behave himself. 

Waiting for the worst, Dean is shocked when he hears, “Mr. Winchester? Mr. Krushnic? We just wanted to say thank you for being open with your relationship. It’s really great what you are you doing to help make the hockey world more inclusive.” 

The man paused and looked at his friend next to him before reaching for the friend’s hand and saying, “It has especially meant a lot to us.” 

‘Boyfriend, not a friend’ Dean amended in his head. 

Moments like these always made him a little dumbstruck, never knowing what to say. 

He coughed, “Well, you’re welcome, but really we are just being ourselves. Once you click with someone then all that matters is that you do whatever you need to stay with them. And, well, Cas and I clicked.” 

He caught Cas’s side-eye and thought back to those first months. 

“Eventually,” he said laughing. “After I was done being a dick, that is. By the way, kid, you don’t havta call us mister. Who do you think we are?”

The second man looked at him and smirked, responding with a forced country accent, “Well sir, down here in the south, we are raised to respect our elders.” 

Dean heard Cas snort and try to repress a full out laugh. Before he was able to come up with a suitable comeback, the snarky kid had pulled his boyfriend away to continue the way they were originally heading. 

Dean called after them, “Hey kids, what’re your names?” 

The boy who sassed him turned around and kept walking backwards, “Misha! And his name is Jensen. Good luck tomorrow old man! And the Cavs still suck!!” 

Misha shot him a wink and swung back around, pulling Jensen into his side as they walked along. 

By this time, Cas was doubled over laughing, clearly having thoroughly enjoyed the entire exchange. And watching him, Dean couldn’t help but think that maybe Nashville fans weren’t quite so bad after all.


End file.
